


Gotham’s English Prince

by Charliem2107



Series: Justice League: Classified [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Big brother bruce, Bruce is a badass spy, English Bruce, F/M, Lex Luthor is a evil bastard, Secret Identity, as per, so is alfred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28833237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charliem2107/pseuds/Charliem2107
Summary: When the Wayne’s died in Crime Alley, Alfred got guardianship of Bruce and later adopted him. He moved them to England and left Lucius Fox to run Wayne Enterprises.While growing up, Bruce learned of Alfred’s past as a secret service agent for MI6 and decided to follow in his footsteps. He went on to become one of the founding members of the Justice League - a covert department within the British secret service designed, specifically, for covert and highly sensitive operations.Lex Luthor is up to something dangerous and is putting the stability of Kasnia at risk. It is up to The Batman to find out exactly what he’s doing, only for him to find something much worse.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Lois Lane, Lois Lane/Bruce Wayne
Series: Justice League: Classified [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114103
Kudos: 3





	1. The Debrief

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third fic and I’m hoping to turn this into my first series. Hopeful all goes well and this works out.
> 
> I’m not sure how long this is going to last and I only have this first chapter written so I’m guesstimating that it’s going to be around 8 though it could be more. And as of this moment I still haven’t fully worked out whether Lois/Bruce is going to end up as a proper relationship or if their just gonna dance around each other. We’ll see.
> 
> Hopefully, updates every Monday.
> 
> Enjoy x

_Target: Alexander Luthor_

_Agent: The Batman_

_The Mission:_

_Recent intel has been handed over claiming that Luthor is ramping up his operation._

_We have been aware of Lexcorp’s clandestine armament programs for the last decade, but we have reason to believe that they stretch as far back as thirty years. Recently, the ‘Defence Division’ of the company has switched its focus from developments in ammunition to more advanced weaponry._

_A whistleblower from within Lexcorp, who we believe to be one the scientists working on the program, has handed us images of such weapons. The most successful of these experiments appears to a semi-automatic weapon that fires lasers stored inside a pen-sized cartridge instead of bullets._

_We have reason to believe that these weapons will find their way out of the Lexcorp research and development labs. It is your mission to infiltrate Lexcorp gather more, concrete evidence of their experiments so as to move against Luthor can be made._

-

A classically handsome man with an angular, stubble-free jaw carefully studied the dossier and still photographs that he had pulled from a Manila envelope that rested on the table in front of him. Carefully kept hands turned page after page as he involuntarily memorised each detail. When he had finished he sat back in his chair, no longer needing to lean forward, and straightened his deep blue suit pin-stripped with silver lines by the hem of the double-breasted blazer.

He eyed his superior - John Jones - blankly, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“We already suspected that Luthor was supplying arms to London gangs, but these recent developments have made the issue that much more pressing. This whistleblower has informed us that Luthor intends to sell his new ‘laser guns’ to these same gangs for them to be smuggled across Europe into Kasnia. We have reason to believe that Luthor means to arm Kasnian terrorists using British citizens. It has become our problem.”

“Why aren’t you having Superman deal with this?

“He has been trying to take down Luthor outside of the league for years and has been unsuccessful. A fresh set of eyes might help.”

“You mean an unfamiliar face,” the Batman’s velvet tenor, coated with an Estuary English accent that was polished with finished consonants at the end of each word.

“Bruce Wayne hasn’t been back to America since he left 20 years ago. Now is as good as time as any to make a reappearance.”

“When am I leaving?”

“Three days. Luthor has, fortunately, invited you to his annual charity gala.”

“I think you mean his annual ‘Look at me, aren’t I great’ self-celebration. He has invited me every year since news broke that that freak had worked out I had come of age to take over my father’s position. As stand-in CEO of Wayne Enterprise, Lucius Fox goes in my stead. That’s not something I want to change.”

“Be as loud or as quiet as you like,” the prim Oxbridge-educated man said as he enclosed his finely tailored suit by its single button around his midriff preparing to leave the ornate conference room, “but, either-way, Gotham’s English Prince will be reintroduced to America.”

He started towards the door and paused in the frame when he opened it. Backlight by dim, orange light, The Manhunter turned toward The Batman, his dark skin off-setting the piercing green of his eyes, “See Agent A before you leave.”

-

Bruce walked through the darkened oak door, hung his keys on the designated peg next to the mirror and closed it behind him. He shrugged off his jacket and folded it in half, ready to sling it onto the marble kitchen counter. As he did he spun to face the fridge, opening it and reaching for the carton of orange juice. He closed the fridge, preventing it from chilling him any further, and flipped the plastic cap of the carton up. He brought the whole one litre carton to his lips and tipped his head back as to chug more efficiently. He turned slowly and lent his free hand in the counter, being met by a familiar disapproving voice.

“It’s like you weren’t raised by a butler.”

Bruce lowered his head and removed the orange juice carton from his pursed lips and placed it on the black marble. He couldn’t help but feel chastised. Pennyworth’s had that affect.

“What are you doing home?” He asked.

The teenage girl across from him sighed and returned to her homework that rested on the breakfast counter, “It’s the last day of term, so it was half-day.”

“You should have said, Julia. I could have come and picked you up.”

Her head shot upwards, abandoning the book - ‘Perfume’ - that she was highlighting. The kinks of her chocolate-brown Afro jolted against her shoulders with harshness of the movement, her hickory-coloured eyes staring wide and threateningly into Bruce’s aqua ones. She pointed a naturally deep tanned, precisely manicured finger in her brother’s direction, “No. Not after last time.”

Bruce stared back looking comically befuddled, “What happened last time?”

“The school had to shut because of the snow and you came to pick my up. For the next three weeks I then had to listen to a gaggle of teenagers gush about how good looking you are and how amazing you must be. Worst three weeks of my life.” She failed to hide her disgust at the suggestion allowing it to bleed into her voice and onto her face.

“You don’t have to sound so horrified by that fact the people think I’m attractive.”

“Not people, Bruce. My friends. It’s weird. Imagine it the other way around.”

Bruce straight-lined, impassive face contorted into something resembling revulsion and discomfort. He quickly decided to change to subject, “Where’s Alfred?”

Returning to her book, Julia replied, “Dad’s in his shed.”

-

Alfred pottered around his small concrete shed nestled at the bottom of his neat, colourful garden. He paced to and fro, from one side of the shed to the other, collecting all kinds of screwdriver to his work bench where he was trying to update the mechanism in Batman’s grapple gun. He stood over his cast iron work bench and glanced out of the window, basking in the serenity of his garden when to pine door opened. Without breaking his gaze from his work he addressed the visitor, “Your grapple should be ready for your departure.”

“Good.”

At Bruce’s clipped tone, Alfred raised a sweeping silver eyebrow, “What’s wrong.”

“John’s asked me to use Wayne Enterprises as a cover.”

“I know. Is there a problem with that?”

Bruce shrugged and hid his hands in his trouser pockets, “I don’t know. Won’t that bring up too many questions? Won’t that put my job at risk?”

Alfred paused for a moment and a pensive look swept a veil across his face. He looked to Bruce, “It may. It may not. I’ve looked over the debrief and you’ve done missions far more dangerous. Even so, who is going to suspect a billionaire CEO to be a spy in a covert department.”

“And how do we explain away the fact that I haven’t been back to the States for 18 years.”

“I’m sure the Gazette reported my legal guardianship and adoption of you. As well as our move to London. Anything after that, I’m sure you can come up with a suitably dull answer for them.” The middle-age patriarch then turned back to his bench, but Bruce failed to leave. “Was there anything else?”

“I think I’ve come up with an excuse for going back.”

“And what is that?”

“Family holiday. Manhunter wants you to come with. And, before you say anything, Julia has to come to sell the story. She’ll be protected.”

“I’m not sure -“

“Alfred, she wants to know where I grew up. Or thereabouts. You never know, she might enjoy it. If it makes you feel better, Superman’s based in Metropolis. He’s going to be there if we need him.”

“Actually, it does.”

“I’ll tell Julia the good news.” He made his way back towards the door and paused just before opening it with his hand gripping the copper handle, “Remember, we’re at the airfield in three days and Julia is going to be told that it’s the perks of being a reclusive CEO rather than an agent for Her Majesty’s Service.”


	2. Superman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark gets his own debrief.

“Perry, I swear Luthor’s up to something!” Lois exclaimed, exasperatedly waving her hands in front of her before harshly setting them on her hips. Clark was thankful that the misted glass door that separated Perry’s office from the rest of the bull pen was closed, in spite of its nervous rattling at the booming shouts coming from the woman and older man in front of him. He sat back in the corner on the old, cigar-smoke infused couch ruefully thinking that it didn’t look like this screaming match was going to end any time soon.

“Lois, I am not going to go through this with you, again,” Perry groused, pointing and waving at Lois with his index finger. He seemed successfully authoritative in front of the purple-clad woman in 5-inch heels, but she looked ready to stab her boss with said shoes.

“But, Perry, I have it from a good source that Luthor is up to his old, nasty tricks again,” she reasoned leaning her manicured hands on the cluttered desk.

“Who is this source? Has the information been verified? Do you have any proof?” To Clark’s ear the chief’s voice gradually became softer with each question.

“This is one of Clark’s contacts, Chief. I trust that he has sound information.”

“He may do, Lois, and I do trust your judgement - most of the time. I hate Luthor as much as you do, but I can’t publish this without proof. The Planet can’t afford to go up against another libel suit because we were too trigger happy against Luthor again.”

The confrontation seemed to die down, but with all his experience, Clark knew better than that. Lois roared into life again “But Chief -“

As the argument burst back into life, Clark’s phone buzzed. His work phone. The one cradled in his inside pocket. The left one. The one he could close with a zip. A notification covered his insignia wielding lock screen, the red and yellow ’s’-shield hidden by a message.

‘In Town. Vacation. Free for the night. M.G.H - B’ Translation: ‘In Metropolis. Mission. We need to talk. Location is Metropolis Grand Hotel - Batman’

With his company distracted by the heated verbal fight they were engaged in, Clark stealthily slid out of the misted door and through the bull pen towards the gold-painted elevators. He land on the ground floor and subtly sped through the foyer and out of the revolving doors that continued to spin after his hasty exit. He turned right and hailed a taxi, having it take him to his desired location.

Once the yellow cab pulled up outside of the towering hotel, Clark paid the driver and climbed out. Clark gave a friendly nod to the doorman as he pulled the heavy glass and steel barrier open. He walked purposely walked to the main desk and asked the receptionist with a great deal of practiced charm, the room number for Thomas Kane. She gave him the information freely and quickly, noting that she had been told to expect a tall, raven-haired man wearing glasses. She mumbled after that she hadn’t expected him to be so handsome. Clark still blushed, despite pretending not to hear her, finding it absolutely remarkable that he still had a job as a Justice League agent. 

He shuffled in the direction of the ornate lifts and tapped the correct buttons to take him up to the 50th floor. After its journey, the elevator doors opened to a penthouse and Clark stared from the capsule directly through the suite and out of the floor to ceiling windows that lined the opposite wall. He stepped onto the pinewood floor and whistled lowly at the sleek leather sofas and smoothly vanished, fully-stocked bar. The farmer’s son turned Marine turned super spy couldn’t help but feel ever so slightly inadequate in the face of it.

“Subtle,” he proclaimed.

A commanding voice from behind him informed, “It was Manhunter’s idea.”

Clark turned to the voice and smiled a small upturn of his lips as a way of greeting, “You swept the place?”

“We’re free to speak.”

Clark turned series, “This about Lex and his new toys?”

“What else would I be here for?”

“You alone?”

“This is a solo mission, but John recommended I loop you in, just in case.”

“Thank you. But, not the answer I was looking for. There are extra suitcases.”

“John suggested that I bring Alfred and Julia,” Bruce said, resignation tarnishing his words

“I get Alfred, but why your sister?”

“According to Manhunter, Bruce Wayne is making his way back in to American society, with his family alongside. I would prefer that neither of them were here, but John thinks it will be better for my cover. I want you to keep an eye on her, and be there if I need you.”

“Of course, Bruce. And the farm is always on standby.”

“Good. I’ll catch you up.”

-

Once back at the Planet, Clark warily snuck back to his desk and carefully sat in his chair, ready to work on his articles like he hadn’t been away.

“And, where the hell did you go?” Lois’ high, angry voice cut through the air. Clark winced.

“I had to go out. For a story.”

“Anything to do with the contact you let me take the heat for.” She jabbed his shoulder with her nail.

“Sorry.”

“Whatever. Thanks to you we’re on gala duty as punishment.”

“We?” That was not a high pitched squeal coming from a grown-ass man.

“That’s what you get for not pulling me out from under the bus,” Lois gleefully informed her work partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bit short as I wasn’t share how to move the characters into each other’s ways


	3. A Gala for Lex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce meet Lois, Lois meet Bruce. Misunderstandings ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this comes from my firm belief that Bruce screams internally at thought of having to be Brucie and in this is immensely glad he doesn't have to do that.

Bruce slouched in the leather seat of the limousine perspiring gently at his temples, measuredly clenching and unclenching his fists as an exercise of calm. He listened to the mounting shutters of cameras as the car approached the parted sea of paparazzi outside of the gala hall. Julia reached out to hold the forearm that rested on his thigh. She smiled reassuringly, “You okay, bro?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, with a small nod of his head, shaking its wavy quaff, “I just haven’t had to do this in a while.:

“We could always go back to the hotel, order room service and watch a film. I’m sure Lucius won’t mind.”

Bruce silently snorted, a puff of air being pushed from his nose. His smiled fondly, “As tempting as that offer is, I have to do this.”

The limousine stopped its rolling and the camera flashes intensified shielding the starry night sky with blinding white light, “You go out first Jules, I’ll be right behind you.”

Julia opened the the car door and stepped out, holding her gown up as to not catch it on her heel and trip. After her graceful exit she closed the door behind her, leaving bruce in the company of their driver for the night. He sighed deeply, “I’ve beaten assassins, taken down mob boss and destroyed drug cartels from the inside out and I’m scared of a few cameras.”

Alfred spared a glance at the rear view mirror, “You have always worked well in the shadows. That is what makes Batman so formidable. You never liked this sort of thing, but you aren’t that small, shy boy anymore. It’s been twenty years and you have become an excellent man in that time. I assure you, you have nothing to be scared of.”

With an easier smile, Bruce exited the car and looped Julia’s arm through his, protectively escorting her up carved stone steps and into the hall, ignoring shouts, questions and camera flashes.

-

Music chimed through the ballroom. Soothing violin strings and clarinets swam through the air, filling the hall. Bruce lent backwards against the glass and steel bar, elbows propped up and his suit jacket open. The black front panels fell away from his torso to reveal a midnight blue shirt. He was perched like a hawk, carefully sweeping his eyes across the crowd. He ignored ageing and balding executives, lecherous hands fiddling with money and, boring socialites wrapped in small dresses pretending to be dim because it’s got them further than their intelligence. Bruce trained one eye on Luthor as he made his round through the ballroom, shaking greasy hand after clammy hand. He focused his other on Julia, guarding her from afar as she conversed animatedly with scholars and academics. He smiled fondly - she was never going to talk to anyone else.

“One big, big whiskey, please. No ice,” an assertive, female voice ordered. It sounded smooth, smoky and fiery; just the whiskey she’d just ordered and the one he had been sipping on all evening. Bruce turned to his left to see a petite dark-haired woman dressed in a lavender, backless maxi dress that matched the colour of her eyes. “God, I hate these things,” she groused.

“Then, why are you here?” Bruce asked. ‘She could be important,’ he thought.

“Punishment. You?”

“Invited,” he shrugged.

She surveyed his appearance. Bruce felt like he was being appraised like a priceless, rare antique. “Yeah,” she laughed quietly, “you look the type.”

“And what type is that?” Bruce turned fully to rest his elbows on the bar while still having his head turned towards the woman.

“Aristocratic. That square jaw of yours gives you away,” she waved a delicate yet strong hand at his face. He noticed that the knuckle on her right middle-finger was graced with a slightly protruding callous. She’s a writer. “You also kind look like that Thomas Wayne guy from way back.”

“I get told that a lot. Then I open my mouth.”

“Yeah. You could get far in this room with that accent of yours. I’m Lois, Lois Lane,” she extended her hand to him. Her violet nails completing her purple ensemble.

He shook her hand, “Bruce Wayne.”

“Shit,” she breathed as her eyes grew wider; lavender irises framed by cat-like black lines of mascara.

“Thank you for the compliment, by the way. I’m very proud of my jaw.”

“Can I have an interview?” Lois blurted and then turned beet red at her unprofessionalism.

“Uh,” he had never been asked for an interview before. He never had any reason to give an interview and, thankfully, when he moved to England no one had been interested in The Bruce Wayne. “Sure -“ time to turn on the charm “- as long as I can keep talking to you. How about another drink?”

“Bruce,” a familiar voice called and Bruce turned away from Lois momentarily to see Julia approaching them looking much too mature for Bruce’s liking, “I’m just going to powder my nose, but there’s this old guy that wants to talk to you. I said it was alright for him to come over here when he’s finished talking to that other old guy.”

Bruce smiled fondly, “Which old guy is that?”

“I don’t know - they all look the same.”

He laughed, “I’ll have to take my chances, then. I’ll be here when you come back.” And Julia waltzed off in the direction of the bathrooms. Bruce then swivelled back towards Lois, confused at her disbelieving chuckle. “What?”

“I can’t believe you. You seem all nice and sophisticated with the smooth accent of yours but your just like every other old fart in this room. How old is that girl? Eighteen? Twenty? Even the other supermodels in the room are older than that!”

“She’s sixteen,” Bruce informed with no amount of embarrassment.

“Jesus fucking -“

“And she’s my sister. Well, adoptive sister, but same thing.”

“Shit. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“Oh shit -“

“Lois -“

“No, not that,” she fluttered her hand about, “Cue ball’s heading this way.” Bruce turned bewildered in the direction of Lois’ hand waving only to watch as Lex Luthor’s smarmy grin moved closer to them.

“Bruce Wayne!” He declared, expanding his arms to the peak of their wingspan, “I never thought I’d see the day where you back into society.”

Bruce smiled with carefully rehearsed charisma as he felt discomfort radiate from Lois. He outstretched a hand to the approaching potential international criminal mastermind, “Mr Luthor, pleasure. And moving to England is hardly disappearing.”

“When you’re Gotham’s first family it is,” Luthor said as he clapped a hand, that had the beginnings of liver-spots, on to Bruce’s bicep. The younger man had started to become acutely aware that due to Luthor’s unashamedly loud voice the attention of everyone in the room had been drawn to him. It unsettled Bruce. He was so used to being in the shadows, even from a boy the spotlight had never been his thing. Sometimes he thinks that if he and Alfred had stayed in Gotham he would be used to the flashing cameras and the young woman smiling a sultry smile at him. But, he doesn’t like to think of that world - it was probably a world without Julia and without a quiet townhouse in London.

“Listen, Brucie,” ‘Brucie’ tried not to contort his face in disgust at the unwanted nickname, “I have some things I’d like to show you. I think we could be excellent business partners and have a very bright future together,” he slung his arms across Bruce’s shoulder and he tensed. “I’m a little busy right now, but come by my tower tomorrow, I have some things I’d like to show you.”

Bruce perked up at that. But, this was too easy. He would go along with what Luthor wanted, but he’d need to be careful. Someone like Luthor would trust Bruce that having just met him.

Luthor was definitely up to something more than just arms dealing. Bruce was going to find out what.


	4. How Not to Spy, A Guide by Bruce Wayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce infiltrates LexCorp and discovers Luthor's plans are more sinister than first thought. it all goes a bit pear-shaped from there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys,
> 
> I am really sorry that this chapter was a few weeks late but this fic it harder to write than I thought. I've had really irritating writers block with this one and im still not 100% happy with the chapter. but I hope you guys enjoy it.
> 
> since i'm finding this fic harder to write than any of my others and work is being a bitch i'm gonna move away from my posting schedule and post each new chapter as I finish them. hopefully it won't take me as long to get past the block with the next one.
> 
> enjoy x

The Batman skulked through dimly lit corridors ducking into alcoves and shrouding himself in a stolen lab coat to evade late night workers, janitorial staff and security guards. He navigated halls caped in pale light and decorated with floating shadows. He retraced the steps of his tour of Lex Tower that had concluded only hours before this infiltration. He passed empty office after empty office, each seeming darker than the last. He stopped upon reaching an intersection at the end of the grey corridor.

“Agent A? Which way?” He asked in a hushed in tone, careful not to attract unwanted attention in the scarcely populated hallway.

“ _The so-called ‘Defence Development Lab’ is to your left. End of the hall and through the double doors_ ,” Alfred informed through the earpiece nestled inside Bruce’s ear. Bruce began to move.

“How did you get the blueprints to this place anyway? Even I couldn’t find them on the tour this afternoon.”

“ _I have my ways_.”

“Care to share with the class,” Bruce quipped just before gently pushing the swinging lab door further open before it clicked shut and locked after an engineer in a white coat passed through it, placing her security pass back into her pocket.

“ _I need to keep some secrets to myself._ ”

Bruce slid through the door and was confronted by bright light and white floors. Work benches, littered with various tools and unfinished projects, were dotted around the room. Workers, moving silently, were scattered amongst them. He remembered this from the tour early in the day. Lex had described the laboratory as the engine of LexCorp, arrogantly bragging that his ‘ _genius team of the best scientists in the country_ ’ were only ‘ _a decade away from ridding the world of the common cold_ ’. Bruce knew these claims to be baseless, ego-boosting PR statements and couldn’t help but realise them for the distraction they were. While Luthor waltzed through the laboratory, sashaying in between tables and rolling chairs, with Bruce following behind him, Lex would imperceptibly glance towards a large computer terminal at the back of the room, adjacent to a single, locked, reinforced door. He would tense minutely as Bruce followed his gaze to then redirect his attention to something harmless.

There was something in the computer and behind that door, Bruce knew it.

He worked his way to the back of the room, using his borrowed coat to make himself as invisible as possible. He pushed a pair of square, black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and scanned the room.

“What can you see A?”

“ _A great deal of nothing. All those projects laid out in the open appear to be mostly harmless.”_

“‘Mostly’?” Bruce whispered.

“ _I can see bullets and shielding. None of those weapons you’ve been tasked with finding._ _It seems you may need to find one of those_ _security passes for access to that door you’re walking towards._ ”

“On it.” As Bruce traced steps towards the computer terminal he altered his path to purposefully collide with an incoming stout, balding man. A ginger ring of hair ran around the side of his head as wonky wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his fat nose. His security pass dangled from his lower left pocket of his coat. Luckily he had just come from the room.

Bruce bounced off of the rotund man, turning off kilter slightly, while gently lifting the security pass with his left hand. He started to stammer in a fake Midwestern accent, “Oh, I’m real sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?” He always found the accent to help with making him seem innocent and harmless. You could get away with anything. Clark certainly did.

“I’m fine,” the man replied gruffly as he carried on walking

“ _I really wish you wouldn’t do that. You sound ridiculous.”_

“I would choose a different accent, but irritating you is just too much fun.” He sat down at the computer and began sifting through files. Nothing. “Seems this computer just concerns the projects out in the open. Surprisingly smart of Luthor. I’m heading into the room.”

Bruce rose from the desk, swiped the card and slipped delicately through the reinforced door.

“A, are you getting this?” Bruce asked breathless as he stared the the objects sprawled over a large table in the centre of the darkened room.”

“ _It looks as though our source was correct.”_

Bruce warily stepped towards the table. It was solid steel and barely lit by two tube-like desk lamps. The metal bench was adorned by various gun barrels and butts, cartridges lined the back length of the table. Soot-coloured rifled-shape cages were scattered across the four dim walls. He moved to stand over the work table and gazed at a scattering of dossiers and blueprints, swiping his fingers across the straight lines printed on them.

“You’re recording everything I’m seeing, right?”

“ _Always._ ”

“I’ve seen plans like these before,” Bruce revealed in a voice shocked into quiet, “When I was undercover in Nanda Parbat. Ra’s had a notebook. He kept drawings and ideas in it, said he dreamt them all. He was a big believer in mystic forces - convinced that a thing called a Lazarus Pit existed. Anyway, he showed me a drawing one day. It looked exactly like the plans for these weapons.”

“ _I hope you aren’t suggesting what I think you’re suggesting._ ”

“Ra’s was obsessed with overthrowing the Kasnian government, he claimed he was the rightful heir to the country’s old throne. Our source was wrong, A. Luthor isn’t supplying weapons to Kasnian rebels, he’s selling the means to start a war to the ruler of the League of Shadows.”

“Shit!” A surprised squeal ripped through Bruce’s shock. He lifted his head up and turned wide-eyed to the door.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“The fuck you doing here?” Lois asked indignantly.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“You could but I think your answer would be a lot more interesting.”

“I’m sure it would,” he stated as he walked over to Lois, still planted by the door, “You need to go. You can’t be here.”

“Neither can you,” she stormed over to the table to flick through the fan of paper, “Luthor really is selling weapons to the League of Shadows, but I was told he was donating them to freedom fighters somewhere in the Middle East.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“A source.”

Bruce was about to respond with some snarky retort but was distracted by the boom of heavy boots on tile. He pulled the door ajar and peeked through the crack, bright light highlighting the middle of his face. He cursed under his breath as he watched security guards with semi-automatic rifles cradled in their hands file in through a door on the opposite side of the room. One was caught in conversation with the ginger-haired man who had realised his security pass was missing. Bruce carefully pushed the door close, hoping to mute the click as much as possible. He turned to face Lois once again, “Security are up here. I can get you out but I need you to stick close.”

“Wait a sec, I need to get copies of these documents.”

“Lois, there’s no time. If they find us, we’re dead.” She seemed to consider this for a few moments that Bruce thought stretched for an eternity. “Fine,” she huffed.

“Come on.” Bruce carefully pried to door open and led Lois through. They made it halfway towards the door where Bruce had entered earlier before stopping abruptly. He glanced over to the guards to see them looking back at him with narrowed, beady eyes. Bruce steeled himself.

“Bruce?” They carried on walking, albeit slower. The eyes continued to follow them.

Bruce slipped the lab coat from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Lois wasn’t wearing one so just eyed him confused. “A, the car is were I left it?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Lois,” she looked up at him, violet eyes looking at him quizzically, “Run.” Bruce grabbed her hand and held it tightly, making sure she kept up in her low heels as they launched through the double doors and pelted down the hallways. Panic began to settle in their stomachs as the harsh banging of combat boots followed them. Moments later a whistling sound brushed past their ears as bullets embedded themselves in the concrete walls and the shells littered the floors with a cacophony of tinny clicks. The duo instinctively ducked down as they ran, Bruce leaning in to Lois to shield her with his bulky body as they got further away from the hurried marching and gunshots.

“ _There is a turning on your right. It should lead you to a stairwell that has access to the roof,_ ” informed Alfred.

Just as he was going to reply in thanks, a sharp, burning pain ripped through his right thigh. He grunted, stumbled and caught himself on the wall as Lois supported his other arm. They turned the corner that Alfred had mentioned, quickly undoing the tie wrapped around his neck. They burst through the door to the stairwell and Bruce sank into the bottom two steps on their level. He spun the tie around the leg of his suit and knotted it tort. He panted through the pain as Lois looked on concerned. He rose from the steps and started the journey upwards. Lois followed him.

“Shouldn’t we be heading, y’know, down the stairs?” She asked impatiently.

“No,” the reply he gave was strained through gritted teeth.

“I’m assuming you’re not just a CEO, maybe police or something. So, now would be a good time to pull out your gun.”

“I don’t have a gun.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t like them.”

The door leading to the stairwell crashed open and ricocheted off of the wall. Bruce discerned orders for the guards to spilt up and heard regimented footsteps edging their way closer. He grabbed a hold of Lois and tugged her up the stairs as fast as he could with a limp. The shouting voices grew as the platoon of guards approached. The sound of a single shot echoed throughout the, seemingly, eternal mountain of stairs. He shielded the reporter once again, hugging her against the wall, his back facing outwards as his arms cradled her shoulders and his head was tucked above hers. Bruce was always of the opinion that it was better that he was hurt rather than a civilian, whether he was responsible for them or not. Another cry of pain burst from his throat as the bullet found its way into his abdomen. He immediately clutched Lois tighter to his body and when it became clear that no more shots were to be fired, the only sounds to be boots and the pair’s ragged breathing, Bruce resumed pulling her to the rooftop exit.

He exploded through the corroding door and sprinted to the edge of the building. He unsteadily clambered onto the waist high brick wall that skirted the perimeter of the flat roof.

Lois gaped at him, uncertainty and terror clouding her eyes, “Bruce, what are you doing?”

“Lois, come on. We don’t have much time,” he stated urgently. She refused to move, her feet frozen to where she stood. He held out his hand, more calloused than it had any right to be, pleading. “Trust me.”

Unsteadily, she moved forward, placing her hand in his. He hoisted her onto the ledge and instructed her to hold onto him as he curled one arm around her back. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a petite, gun-like object.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a gun,” she said.

“It’s not a gun.” He outstretched his arm away from them, shooting a wire from his handheld device. The thin line shot towards the building next to Lex Tower, expanding across the cavern that separated them. Bruce held Lois tighter and stepped off the ledge. She gasped in shock and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, desperately searching for safety as they descended into the alley below. They gently touched down onto the wet ground behind a sleek, black car. Their knees bent accordingly with the transition from air to earth. They untangled themselves from each other and Bruce pocketed his gadget, moving to the driver side of the car. “Get in,” he order.

Lois didn’t hesitate as shouts from the rooftop above alerted her to the presence of guards with guns. Once they were both in, Bruce sped out of the alley and onto the streets of Metropolis. “A, where’s the nearest safehouse?”

“ _Two miles away. The key is under the mat._ ”

“Radio silence for now. I’ll let you know when I’m safe.”

“ _I’ll keep an eye out this end._ ”

Bruce’s earpiece shut off and he slung his glasses into the glove box of the speeding car. He stretched his arm out across the centre console and settled it in front of Lois’ face. “Rip the sleeve off,” he instructed. Lois complied wanting to see where this was going. He manoeuvred the one-armed suit jacket off of his torso and asked for the sleeve back, discarding the jacket in the back seat. He ripped the sleeve in half, tearing it down the seam. “Take the wheel.” Lois reached through the car, guiding the steering wheel with one hand, steading herself against the door with the other. Bruce lent forward, revealing a crimson waterfall cascading down the base of his back, staining his pearl white shirt. He wrapped the dissected sleeve over his wound, tying it across is midriff as though it was a hoodie he had just taken off. He took control of the wheel again and the pair drove to the warehouse in silence.

Lois stared blankly out of the window as the Metropolis lights streamed past, her fingers numbly twitching as they rested over her legs as she tried to figure out why in the world Bruce Wayne was so concerned with LexCorp and who that mysterious voice was chirping in his ear.


End file.
